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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28466934">take my hand, wreck my plans</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dameofpowellestate/pseuds/dameofpowellestate'>dameofpowellestate</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>it always leads to you, in my hometown [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Boys In Love, Childhood Friends, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, New Year's Eve, a sprinkle of seasonal angst but so light you nearly miss it, evermore won't leave me alone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:07:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,075</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28466934</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dameofpowellestate/pseuds/dameofpowellestate</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Anticipation buzzes in the pit of Patrick’s stomach as David’s hands flutter about his shoulders and Patrick grips David’s waist tightly as they sway together. They’ve made their rounds and have had their fill of champagne for the time being and Patrick needs to be as close to David as he can be to quell the waves of jitters.</i><br/> <br/>or, the sequel to my "'tis the damn season" one shot that maybe a few people asked for.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Stevie Budd/Twyla Sands</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>it always leads to you, in my hometown [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2085156</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>144</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>take my hand, wreck my plans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <i>the more that you say, the less i know<br/>wherever you stray, i follow<br/>i'm begging for you to take my hand<br/>wreck my plans, that's my man</i>
</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s arctic outside but he only knows because he can see the snow falling in big fat flakes out of the window, the curtains open to let in the hazy blue of the winter sky outside. </p><p>He’s warm, tucked beneath the new heavier duvet he’d purchased last week on a whim. His bedmate is still fast asleep beside him, dark messy hair a stark contrast to the crisp white linen of the pillowcase and light snores almost lulling him back to sleep. But it’s Christmas and he’s… a little excited. </p><p>He lets out a soft groan as he stretches before wrapping himself around David’s still sleep-warm skin. David is in nothing but boxer-briefs to make up for his proclivity towards too many blankets in the winter. David likes cuddling and Patrick certainly hasn’t complained. </p><p>David huffs a breath but curls up against Patrick, pressing his entire face into Patrick’s chest and breathing deep which startles a laugh out of Patrick.</p><p>Just a year ago this seemed… impossible. So far out of his reach. It seemed like he’d never end up here, that they’d only exist inside the tiny window the winter holidays provided. </p><p>“Merry Christmas, honey,” Patrick says softly, his fingers moving to card through David’s freshly trimmed but terribly ruffled morning hair.</p><p>David mumbles something that sounds like ‘Merry Christmas’ into his skin but is quick to follow up with kisses pressed into the same spot. </p><p>Patrick <em> loves </em>him. </p><p>Patrick’s hands move to trace every inch of skin within his reach, because he can… because this Christmas David’s here and he’s been here and he’s not going anywhere.</p><p>He swallows thickly and he knows David feels it because David’s arms wrap around him too, tighter than they normally would. </p><p>They’ve always had Christmas, and now they have the rest of the year—<em> god </em>he hopes the rest of their time here on this earth. </p><p>He presses a kiss to David’s forehead, a feat he’s not sure how he achieves as David’s still pressing most of his face into Patricks sternum but with the kiss he lifts his face up, his dark eyelashes fanning beautifully across his cheeks. </p><p>Patrick ghosts his lips over each cheek, drops a kiss to David’s nose, ending with a lingering kiss to his lips and a teasing flick of his tongue to the bow of David’s top lip. </p><p>“Mmm,” David hums, the sound a low rumble in the back of his throat which lies more on the sleepy side of his bedroom noises than the sexy.  A catalog Patrick now has extensive knowledge of. “We don’t have time for you to be giving me kisses like that,” he says, a breathy whisper before he captures Patrick’s lips this time.</p><p>Patrick melts back into the mattress, David’s body following… pressing. This pocket of space, of time, has become his favorite. This is their first winter living together and Patrick finds that these warm mornings under the covers with David somehow keep him warm all day, even out in the Canadian snow. </p><p>“My parents won’t be here for a few hours,” Patrick’s offers, his fingers slipping inside the band of David’s boxer-briefs and pulling their hips flush together.</p><p>“We’re meeting my parents at their place for breakfast and then Stevie and Twyla are coming over to drop a few things off before they go over to–” </p><p>“Okay, okay we’ve got to get up… can we at least have a Christmas hand-job in the shower?” Patrick says, with pouty lips and his best, as David would call them, heart-eyes. </p><p>David winks and reaches down to pull on the elastic of Patrick’s new pair of underwear he’d received in his stocking last night and lets it pop against Patrick’s skin. </p><p>******** </p><p>The velvet box sits heavy in Patrick’s pocket as he drives them to the Rose’s for breakfast. It’s a small affair but it seems they ordered enough food from the café for at least twice the people, and there’s even a few of Ivan’s famous cinnamon buns. He’s imagined surprising David with the box as they exchange gifts with Mr. and Mrs. Rose… he’s replayed the picture he’s had in his head of Alexis swatting playfully at David’s arm as he’s down on one knee, but once they get there and settle into the chaos that comes with Rose Family events well, it doesn’t really seem like the right time.</p><p>Which works out for the best because fifteen minutes after the last gift is opened, Mrs. Rose excuses herself to hop on a Skype call about a possible role in an upcoming movie about “unrestrained Corvids and the havoc they wreak,” pulling Alexis along to help her. </p><p>He ponders fitting it in between their arrival back home and Stevie and Twyla stopping by, but the idea of <em> fitting </em>it in doesn’t seem right at all.</p><p>When Stevie and Twyla arrive to drop off their Christmas gifts, the look Stevie gives him makes him feel like the damn box is on fire where it rests against his chest from it’s spot in his inside jacket pocket.</p><p>Of course he’d asked for her blessing… of course he’d thought he’d have asked by now and he longs to assure Stevie he’s not gotten cold feet, he just wants the moment to be <em> right.  </em></p><p>He doesn’t feel right about asking David to marry him in front of the Brewers without the Roses also being there,  so when Clint and Marci arrive he moves the box from the pocket of his jacket to the drawer of his nightstand—the drawer for whatever book he’s reading along with his night guard, not the <em> fun </em>drawer.</p><p>By the time they make it to bed, David’s asleep before Patrick even finishes his turn in the bathroom, having had a few more glasses of wine than he normally would once Stevie and Twyla circled back to their place to open gifts. </p><p>Their day had been so full of all the people they love and they did it together. It wasn’t some quick hook-up after the Schitt’s Creek Annual Christmas Spectacular… well they <em> had </em>hooked up after the event when it took place a few days ago but it wasn’t quick and they’d come back to their shared apartment. </p><p>Though this year is different, this time of year still feels a bit steeped in tradition. Full of memories of the uncertainty of the two of them… in the longing. In the coming together only to lose each other again. He thought proposing around Christmas was a way to make sure they both are certain, to erase the now admittedly small pang in his chest when he thinks back on what this time of year means for the two of them… maybe it’s worth keeping. </p><p>When he slips into bed next to David, he doesn’t regret not asking today because it doesn’t matter when he asks, this man isn’t going anywhere. Not again. And it’s because of the damn holiday tradition that kept them intertwined even when they shouldn’t have been and yeah, maybe he wants to keep that separate. </p><p>He moves into David’s space, slots their legs together until David predictably twines his long arms around Patrick. This is how it always goes if David falls asleep before Patrick makes it to bed. He’s never sure if David wakes up to pull him close or if it’s just instinct but it never fails to make Patrick melt. </p><p>********</p><p>Last year when David left after Christmas, it was with the promise of a quick return. A few weeks max to close up his life there, pack, and then he’d be back <em> home. </em></p><p>Patrick believed him, knew that determination in his eyes and that set of his jaw… it was the same one he’d had when David told him he was leaving all those years ago. Patrick was the goal now though, not the illustrious life David thought he wanted when they graduated from school. </p><p>So David left, and Patrick went back to work and hiked and had dinner with Stevie every night for five days… everything he could do to make this time without David to pass as quickly as possible. But then the town stopped and life slowed in preparation for New Years Eve and he helped Jocelyn set up for the annual town-wide party at the café, blew up all the balloons… mopped the floors for Twyla.</p><p>He’d been such a mess, antsy for David’s return, thankfully not heartsick over his departure, ringing in the New Year a few glasses of champagne in.</p><p>He remembers Stevie prying the balloon pump out of his hand and shoving him out the front door of the café and yelling at him to put something on other than his sweatpants. </p><p>He also remembers his heart cracking open like an egg when he walked back in after a shower and change of clothes to find David Rose there waiting for him. </p><p>There’d still been a few other things to take care of but David managed it all from Schitt’s Creek. It only took him six days to come back.</p><p>The box sits untouched in Patrick’s bedside drawer for six days before he’s slipping it into the pocket of his blazer. </p><p>So there’s significance to New Years Eve, the day that final weight had been lifted and David came home to him for good. It’s perfect, so <em> right </em> that the velvet feels especially light this time around. </p><p>He started last year off with his arms wrapped around a boyfriend and his heart skips a beat at the thought of starting this year with a husband. </p><p>Twyla really outdid herself with the decorations this year and he wonders if Stevie had something to do with it,  if she somehow knows his plans, or at least suspects. </p><p>Balloons in shades of gold litter the floor and dance daintily against the ceiling, there’s so many twinkle lights that they don’t need the fluorescent lights but they may have to flip the breakers halfway through the party.</p><p>It’s magical, it makes everyone in this town sparkle too… and maybe Patrick’s just a little too excited about what tonight holds if he thinks Roland is sparkling in his fancy skinny jeans, but everything about this night is beautiful.</p><p>Anticipation buzzes in the pit of Patrick’s stomach as David’s hands flutter about his shoulders and Patrick grips David’s waist tightly as they sway together. They’ve made their rounds and have had their fill of champagne for the time being and Patrick needs to be as close to David as he can be to quell the waves of jitters. </p><p>Patrick tugs David closer, his arms filling wrapping around David’s middle. Their moves get a little clunkier but David lets out a happy sigh and Patrick knows, hopes, he’s going to fill the rest of his life with those sounds. </p><p>He pulls back just enough to press a kiss to David’s chin and then one more to the underside of his jaw until he’s rewarded with something that sounds a lot like a purr. </p><p>He feels it, the certainty in his stomach. It feels almost like when he knows he’s about to hit a home run, how he get when he sat down and told his parents he was gay, how he felt when he knew David was going to kiss him that first time when they were teenagers… he just knows. He just can’t keep it in anymore or his heart is going to burst. </p><p>He steps back fully, taking David’s hands in his for a second, placing a kiss to both before he drops them and drops to one knee. </p><p>His heart is clearly no longer in his body, he can’t feel his legs or his arms but he knows he’s clutching the box in his hand and pulling it out. He distantly hears someone’s high heels running to what he assumes is the speaker system because it’s mere seconds later that the music drops low enough that he can hear David’s sharp intake of breath as he pops the box open to reveal four sparkling gold rings. </p><p>Four gold rings that look at home one David’s fingers, that feel wonderful on the back of Patrick’s neck as David pulls him in for a bruising kiss.</p><p>When Patrick laces his fingers with David’s later that night, as the café crowd counts down the last seconds of the old year, he feels a new countdown just beginning.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A big thank you to returntosaturn and neelyo for all the help and cheering! Title from Willow.</p><p>I seem to have created a universe with this album and I'm not mad about it. I may have a few additions planned for some of the other songs.</p><p>Also, feel free to follow me on Tumblr @ mymariahcarey</p></blockquote></div></div>
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